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Val. I quote it in your jerkin.
Thu. My jerkin is a doublet.
Va!. Well, then, I'll double your folly.
Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you change colour?
Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of cameleon.
Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your blood, than live in your air.
Val. You have said, sir.
Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time.
Val. I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin.
Sil. A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.
Val. 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. Sil. Who is that, servant?
Val. Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire: sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, kindly in your
Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
Val. I know it well, sir: you have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.
Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more; here comes my father.
Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: What say you to a letter from your friends Of much good news? Val.
My lord, I will be thankful To any happy messenger from thence.
Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your countryman?
Val. Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation,
And not without desert so well reputed.
Duke. Welcome him then according to his worth; Silvia, I speak to you: and you, sir Thurio: For Valentine. I need not 'cite him to it: I'll send him hither to you presently. [Exit DUKE. Val. This is the gentleman, I told your ladyship, Had come along with me, but that his mistress Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks.
Sil. Belike, that now she hath enfranchis'd them Upon some other pawn for fealty.
Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still.
Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind,
How could he see his way to seek out you?
Val. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of eyes. Thu. They say, that love hath not an eye at all. Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; Upon a homely object love can wink.
Sul. Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman.
Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! - Mistress, I beseech you,
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
No; that you are worthless. Enter Servant.
Ser. Madam, my lord your father would speak with you.
Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure.
Val. Ay, my good lord; a son, that well deserves Go with me:- - Once more, new servant, welcome: The honour and regard of such a father.
Duke. You know him well?
Val. I knew him, as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd, and spent our hours together: And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time,
To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection;
I'll leave you to confer of home affairs;
Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but, if he make this good, I have done penance for contemning love;
He is as worthy for an empress' love,
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me,
As meet to be an emperor's counsellor.
With commendation from great potentates;
And here he means to spend his time a-while:
I think, 'tis no unwelcome news to you.
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
Love hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,
Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord,
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!
Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the idol that you worship so?
Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint?
Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills; And I must minister the like to you.
Val. Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality,
Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth.
Pro. Except my mistress.
Sweet, except not any; Except thou wilt except against my love. Pro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: She shall be dignified with this high honour, To bear iny lady's train; lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, And, of so great a favour growing proud, Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, And make rough winter everlastingly.
Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? Val. Pardon me, Proteus: all I can, is nothing To her, whose worth makes other worthies nothing; She is alone.
Pro. Then let her alone.
Val. Not for the world: why, man, she is mine
And I as rich in having such a jewel,
Val. Will you make haste?
Pro. I will. —
Bears no impression of the thing it was.
SCENE V. The same. A Street.
Enter SPEED and LAUNCE.
Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan.
Laun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth; for I am not welcome. I reckon this always-that a man is never undone, till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place, till some certain shot be paid. and the hostess say, welcome.
Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the alehouse with you presently; where, for one shot of five-pence, thou shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy master part with madam Julia?
Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very fairly in jest.
Speed. But shall she marry him?
Speed. How then? shall he marry her?
Speed. What, are they broken?
Laun. No, they are both as whole as a fish. Speed. Why then, how stands the matter with them?
Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well with him, it stands well with her.
Speed. What an ass art thou? I understand thee
Laun. What a block art thou, that thou can'st not? My staff understands me.
Speed. What thou say'st? Laun. Ay, and what I do, too: look thee, I'll but lean, and my staff understands me.
Speed. It stands under thee, indeed.
Laun. Why, stand under and understand is all one Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? Laun. Ask my dog: if he say, ay, it will; if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and say nothing, it will.
Speed. The conclusion is then, that it will. Laun. Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a parable.
Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so.
But, Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is become a notable
[Erit VAL. lover?
Even as one heat another heat expels,
Laun. I never knew him otherwise.
Laun. A notable lubber, as thou reportest him
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn;
Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear :
But there I leave to love, where I should love.
If I keep them, I needs must lose myself;
I will forget that Julia is alive,
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter :
Enter JULIA and LUCETTA.
Much less shall she, that hath love's wings, to fly;
Luc. Better forbear, till Proteus make return. Jul. O, know'st thou not, his looks are my soul's food?
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
He makes sweet musick with the enamel'd stones,
Luc. But in what habit will you go along?
Of greater time than I shall show to be. Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make your breeches?
Jul. That fits as well, as- "tell me, good my lord, "What compass will you wear your farthingale? Why, even that fashion thou best lik'st, Lucetta.
Luc. You must needs have them with a cod-piece.
Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that will be ill-favour'd. Luc. A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, Unless you have a cod-piece to stick pins on.
Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly: But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me, For undertaking so unstaid a journey?
I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd.
Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and go not Jul. Nay, that I will not.
Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go.
Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear:
Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men.
liis tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth. Luc. Pray heaven, he prove so, when you come to him!
Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that wrong,
To bear a hard opinion of his truth:
And presently go with me to my chamber,
SCENE I. Milan.
An Ante-room in the Duke's Palace.
Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS. Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; We have some secrets to confer about.
[Exit THURIO. Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover, The law of friendship bids me to conceal : But, when I call to mind your gracious favours Done to me, undeserving as I am,
My duty pricks me on to utter that
Which else no worldly good should draw from me.
Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; Which to requite, command me while I live. This love of theirs myself have often seen, Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep; And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid Sir Valentine her company, and my court: But, fearing lest my jealous aim might err, And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, (A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, The key whereof myself have ever kept; And thence she cannot be convey'd away.
Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd a mean How he her chamber-window will ascend, And with a corded ladder fetch her down; For which the youthful lover now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently; Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. But, good my lord, do it so cunningly, That my discovery be not aimed at ; For love of you, not hate unto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretence. Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never know That I had any light from thee of this.
Pro. Adieu, my lord; sir Valentine is coming. [Exit.
Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? Val. Please it your grace, there is a messenger That stays to bear my letters to my friends, And I am going to deliver them.
Duke. Be they of much import?
Val. The tenor of them doth but signify My health, and happy being at your court.
Duke. Nay, then no matter; stay with me a while; I am to break with thee of some affairs. That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not unknown to thee, that I have sought To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter.
Val. I know it well, my lord; and, sure, the match Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : Cannot your grace win her to fancy him?
Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty; Neither regarding that she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father: And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; And, where I thought the remnant of mine age Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, I now am full resolved to take a wife, And turn her out to who will take her in : Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; For me and my possessions she esteems not.
Val. What would your grace have me to do in this? Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan, here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence: Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor, (For long agone I have forgot to court: Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd ;) How, and which way, I may bestow myself, To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.
Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words, Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More than quick words, do move a woman's mind. Duke. But she did scorn a present that I sent her. Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best con
Send her another; never give her o'er;
That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
Duke. But she, I mean, is promis'd by her friends
Val. Why then I would resort to her by night.
That no man hath recourse to her by night.
Val. What lets, but one may enter at her window? Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground; And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it Without apparent hazard of his life.
Be gone, I will not hear thy vain excuse,
To die, is to be banish'd from myself;
Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of cords, | Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood,
Val. When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that.
Duke. This very night; for love is like a child, That longs for every thing that he can come by.
Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. Duke. But, hark thee; I will go to her alone; How shall I best convey the ladder thither?
Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it Under a cloak, that is of any length.
Duke. A cloak as long as thine will serve the
Because myself do want my servants' fortune:
That they should harbour where their lord should be.
Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee:
'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose.
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours,
Longer than swiftest expedition
Will give thee time to leave our royal court,
By heaven, my wrath shall far exceed the love
There is no day for me to look upon :
Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE.
Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out.
Pro. What seest thou?
Laun. Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine.
Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me! What is your news?
Laun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you are
Pro. That thou art banished, O, that's the news;
Val. O, I have fed upon this woe already,
Pro. Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe: